


Saying Sorry

by Iclare



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 19:30:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18923581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iclare/pseuds/Iclare
Summary: Athos apologises to D’Artagnan. No words need to be spoken.





	Saying Sorry

It came to Athos’ attention embarrassingly slowly how upset D’Artagnan had been feeling. He could argue that the young man was extremely good at keeping his feelings hidden and his happy façade in place but Athos knew the truth. Between the resurrection of his dead wife, Aramis’ dealings with Marsac, and Porthos’ near death experience in the Courts, D’Artagnan had been forgotten. 

The two lovers had spent little time together and while Athos was easily slipping into old habits of drinking himself into oblivion to get him through, D’Artagnan was hiding his hurts and avoiding talking about his apparent abandonment. It was only Constance that had been his saviour from certain destruction.

She had cornered Athos the day before, a scowl on her face and her hands planted firmly on her hips.

‘What have you done to D’Artagnan?’ She huffed, glaring at the soldier before her.

‘I’m not sure what you mean Madame,’ Athos answered while removing his hat, his face stoic as he stared at her.

‘Well you’ve obviously done something to upset him. He’s been moping around here for days and has been upset for weeks before that. What did you do?’ 

Athos wracked his brain but couldn’t think of a single thing that he had done. And then the realisation hit him. He hadn’t done a thing. They hadn’t done a single thing in weeks. No dinners, no drinking, no nights spent together. Not a single day or night just the two of them. 

Constance must have read his face and her scowl softened, if only slightly.

‘He’s been crying you know. He thinks I don’t know but I heard him. Fix it Athos.’ 

Athos responded with a nod of his head and turned away from the woman, a plan already forming in his head.

After a brief discussion with Aramis and Porthos, who were equally annoyed at him for not realising what he was doing and themselves for not noticing how hurt their brother was, a plan was formed.

Aramis was the first act; an afternoon at the local baths, the warm, fragrant water relaxing both soldiers and made D’Artagnan feel clean and clear. He dunked his head into the water, washing his hair and scrubbing his face.

‘This is amazing,’ he smiled at Aramis who smirked at him from the other side of the pool of water. ‘What’s the occasion?’ 

Aramis shrugged nonchalantly in return.

‘It’s been a long few weeks and I thought we could do with some relaxation. Beside Athos is paying and when have you ever known me to turn down the Comte’s purse?’ 

D’Artagnan laughed happily at him, lying back and floating in the water. This was wonderful.

Porthos was act two. After their relaxing baths, Porthos met the two men outside and after sharing a few moments, slung him arm over D’Artagnan’s shoulder and shuffled him over to The Wren for dinner. A hearty meal and a bottle or two of wine were devoured and between the heat of the pub, the alcohol, and the relaxing atmosphere D’Artagnan could feel himself getting drowsy.

‘What’s all this in aid of? And you’re really not going to join in that card game over there?’ D’Artagnan asked, slumping back in his chair and swirling the remaining wine in his cup.

‘I’ll maybe join it later. It’s been a while since we were able to sit down and eat this well; I thought we were well overdue. And since Athos is paying I thought it’d be rude to turn him down.’

This perked D’Artagnan’s ears up and he sat up taller in his seat.

‘Athos is paying for this too? He paid for the baths for me and Aramis aswell.’ 

Porthos just shrugged in response, downing the rest of his wine from his cup and making to stand.

‘We’re meeting him next so you can ask him yourself.’

It was dark outside when Porthos brought D’Artagnan to Athos’ apartment on Rue Ferou and would have brought him in had Athos not already been standing in the doorway waiting for them.

‘Thank you Porthos,’ Athos smiled at him with a nod, gently pushing D’Artagnan into his home and closing the door behind him. He nudged the younger man up the stairs and opened the door to his bedroom, the light of the many candles around the room glittering back at them. 

D’Artagnan stopped in surprise and turned around to see Athos leaning back against the closed door, a smile on his face. 

‘Athos-‘ 

Athos shushed him with a kiss, his hands cupping his cheeks. 

‘I am sorry.’ 

D’Artagnan blinked in confusion and pulled back. 

‘I-I don’t understand. You’re sorry for what?’ 

‘For not being there for you the last few weeks. I know we have been busy but I will not make excuses. I am sorry and I am here to make amends.’ 

Athos pulled the younger man closer, pushing their lips together in a chaste kiss before leading his lover by the hand closer to the bed. He started removing D’Artagnan’s clothes, item by item until the man stood naked before him, his cock semi-hard and his skin glowing in the candlelight.

‘Beautiful,’ Athos whispered with a smile, quickly stripping his own clothes and throwing them into a pile in the corner. He pulled back the blankets and sat himself on the bed, leaning against the headboard and patting the space on the bed between his legs. 

D’Artagnan smiled softly at him, climbing between the limbs and leaning back against his lover’s strong chest and sighing deeply. He grabbed Athos’ hands in his own and kissed his knuckles.

‘This is lovely, thank you.’ 

Athos smirked and chuckled in reply. 

‘This is only the beginning, my love.’

Strong, calloused fingers trailed up the insides of his thighs until they rested at his hips, thumbs rubbing a well worn pattern against his hip bone. Athos’ lips were on his neck placing light kisses across the skin and when teeth connected with his heartbeat D’Artagnan felt a shudder run through him.

‘Okay?’ Athos rasped in his ear, his lips detouring in their journey and kissing behind his ear.

D’Artagnan couldn’t get any words to leave him. He licked his lips and nodded, hot gasps leaving him. He could feel Athos smile against the back of his neck as the kisses continued. D’Artagnan’s fingers grasped at Athos’ knees and he sucked in a breath when Athos’ fingers moved away from his hips, up his torso to rest on his chest.

His nipples were pinched and pulled and he felt his lungs gasp out and his cock harden. Athos nipped at his shoulder and D’Artagnan felt the unmistakable smirk on Athos’ lips on his skin.

Athos reached over and grabbed the vial of oil sitting on the table beside his bed, pouring a generous amount into his hand before replacing the bottle. He reached a hand around D’Artagnan, allowing the oil to dribble from his hand over D’Artagnan’s cock. D’Artagnan let out a moan, leaning his head back against Athos’ shoulder as the older man wrapped a hand around his cock and started to stroke.

D’Artagnan watched as Athos’ hand moved up and down his cock, taking his time to stroke his thumb over the head and trail his pre cum down the shaft. His hands gripped at Athos’ thighs, his fingers digging grooves into the hard flesh and his nails scraping. 

Up and down. Up and down. D’Artagnan felt as though he were in a trance watching Athos’ hand work. His lover’s other hand snuck down from his nipple and grasped at his balls, squeezing and massaging the plump sacs. Combined with the stroking of his cock, for a moment D’Artagnan was convinced this was all a very erotic dream and he would wake up any minute in his room at the Bonacieux house. He wanted to say something, anything, but found the words caught in his throat. He didn’t want to break the comfortable silence that enveloped them, nor did he want to disturb Athos in his exercise. 

D’Artagnan could feel Athos’ hard cock throbbing at his backside and felt a rush of pleasure run through him. He had done that. He had that effect on the older man and he closed his eyes in appreciation. He could feel his orgasm creeping up on him; he was teetering on the edge and his fingers digging into Athos’ skin were letting the older man know. Athos said nothing. He kept moving his hand at the same speed, his lips never leaving D’Artagnan’s neck as his other hand massaged his balls.

D’Artagnan moaned and groaned and whimpered as he felt himself cum, his hips thrusting into Athos’ hand as he shot his load over his chest and stomach. His hips kept moving for a few moments after, Athos’ hand draining the last dregs of his orgasm. He shuddered and collapsed back into Athos’ chest, taking one of the man’s hands and kissing it, tasting himself on his skin. It had been a while since that had happened.

After his orgasm D’Artagnan became wonderfully docile and pliable and Athos easily turned his lover around in his lap until they were facing each other, wrapping his arms around his slim waist and kissing him fully on the lips. D’Artagnan responded softly, his body still trembling in his post-orgasmic state, his eyes refusing to open. Athos took one hand off D’Artagnan’s waist and grabbed the oil from the nearby table, covering his fingers and reaching under D’Artagnan. He slipped a finger into D’Artagnan’s backside, smirking at the groan from his lover that accompanied the movement, not missing the fact that D’Artagnan raised and lowered his hips on his finger in such an erotic fashion that Athos had to hold himself back. Another finger joined in and D’Artagnan opened his eyes, gazing deep into Athos’ and let a smile grace his lips. 

‘Take me.’ 

Athos shook his head and continued pushing his fingers in and out of his lover.

‘It’s been too long; I don’t want to hurt you.’ 

‘You won’t. Take me now. Please,’ D’Artagnan nearly begged, lifting his arms and wrapping them around Athos’ neck, pulling him closer and kissing him hard.

‘How could anyone deny you?’ Athos smirked, kissing him again before lowering him gently onto the bed, planting gentle kisses over the man’s cheeks and forehead. D’Artagnan smiled at the man before him, spreading his legs and allowing the man total access to him. Athos wasted no time in lathering his own weeping cock with the oil and positioning himself at D’Artagnan’s backside. 

‘Are you sure?’

D’Artagnan huffed, his arms above his head, grasping at the bottom of the bed, his fingers scratching at the wooden panel. His long legs wrapped around Athos’ waist pulling him closer.

‘Please Athos. I need you.’

That admission was all Athos needed to push himself forward, D’Artagnan’s ass accepting his cock with little resistance. He pushed forward until he could feel his balls tap the younger man’s cheeks and stopped, allowing his lover time to adjust. 

‘Good. I’m good. Please Athos.’

Athos started moving as soon as D’Artganan spoke, his hips thrusting back and forth, his hands reaching forward and grasping D’Artagnan’s, pushing them into the bed. He sped up until he was almost rutting into the bed. He grunted as he moved, his eyes never leaving D’Artagnan’s face, watching as the man’s features twisted in pleasing agony. He felt one of D’Artagnan’s hands sneak between them and grasp his cock, starting to jack himself off. Athos was pleasantly surprised that the younger man had the virility to orgasm again so soon. He supposed the pressure he was putting in his prostate with each thrust was helping. 

Athos pushed the balls of his feet into his pillows, thrusting harder and harder until D’Artagnan was shouting with pleasure. He could feel himself getting close and from the look on D’Artagnan’s face the youth was nearly there himself.

A few more thrusts pushed him over the edge and he came with a shout and a groan and slumped forward, gasping as D’Artagnan’s ass squeezed his orgasm out of him. He felt D’Artagnan’s own sticky cum between them and could feel the younger man’s chest gasping for breath. Neither had the energy to really move but Athos grasped D’Artagnan in his arms, bringing his lover back to the top of the bed and placing his head on a pillow. 

D’Artagnan opened his eyes and blinked owlishly at him. His face spread into a smile that made Athos’ heart sing and he wondered how they had gone so long without spending time together. 

‘That was-‘ D’Artagnan started, unable to find the words to finish his sentence, instead rolling onto his stomach and resting a hand on Athos’ chest. Athos shimmied down the bed until they were both lying flat, dragging the blankets from the bottom of the bed up until both their bottom halves were covered. Athos lifted the hand D’Artagnan had on his chest and kissed the palm of it.

‘I’m sorry.’ 

D’Artagnan shushed him softly, pulling himself closer to his lover and resting his head on his chest. He wrapped one arm around the man’s stomach, the other resting under his pillow. He flashed a smile up at Athos. 

‘I will accept this apology now. You can say apologise again in the morning.’


End file.
